


Blood on My Name

by IlanaNight



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Redemption, post-geneva incident, vigilantes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-02 11:18:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10943421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IlanaNight/pseuds/IlanaNight
Summary: Hanzo Shimada is dead set on dismantling every piece of the organisation he once so proudly inherited in order to redeem himself for killing his brother. Jesse McCree is picking apart Talon on his own, anything to help him sleep at night and keep himself busy in the aftermath of Geneva. By chance, their paths bring them to the same place, for the same purpose. Maybe a partnership will change everything.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I caved and decided... it's time to write my boys a fic. This is just an introduction, so it'll be a bit shorter than other chapters, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!

_ Hanzo _

 

The clan had branches everywhere. Roots that extended deep into Japan’s soil, and leaves that fell in a hundred countries. Once, that had been a statement he recited with pride, back straight and smile cool. Now, it was just an inconvenience.

 

For every hideout he cleared, every Elder he left dead in his wake, there seemed to be a dozen more. Intel on secret family businesses even he hadn’t been aware of, ties with other international organizations. Information he filed away and locations and names added to his list.

 

Hanzo Shimada wouldn’t rest until the Shimada clan was wiped from the face of the earth, every spot of its influence scrubbed clean.

 

Some branches were easier to cleave off than others. Those closest to the center, the ones he had personal connections to. It was the foreign ties that were more complex- the Elders and their contacts knew how to hide, an international criminal business empire didn’t build itself out of folly.

 

Of course, the more arrows he left in the throats of Elders, the more those remaining wanted him dead. They hid further in their holes and sent out hired guns, hoping to catch him and end the onslaught. 

 

What was a few more bodies to add to his pile of sins? 

 

All the blood in the world couldn’t wash Genji’s off his hands, but the more layers he coated his soul with, the closer he got to redeeming himself for that failure. Once the Shimada clan was destroyed, once the men who had poisoned him against his brother and convinced him to kill Genji for ‘honour’ were dead, then, perhaps, he could take his own life in earnest. Death could only come once his duty was done.

 

Seated on the ledge of a window overlooking the city, Hanzo scanned the horizon idly. It was too early to make his attack- the sun was too high in the sky. Talon wouldn’t be doing its business with the visiting Japanese officials until after hours. And it would be so much easier to take them all out at once, the clan representatives and the Talon agents they were here to deal with.

 

Four years had made Hanzo a patient man. He could wait a few more hours before his strike.

* * *

  
  


_ McCree _

 

The world had always been a dangerous place. It was dangerous with Deadlock, it was dangerous with Blackwatch, and it was dangerous now, working on his own. The only difference was what was at stake.

 

Being a vigilante was freeing- no one relied on him, no one was at risk if he failed. There was no one to come home to, no one expecting him, no one to fret over him if something went wrong. No one to care if he got killed, no one to bury him and visit his grave.

 

He was sure Reyes would have had him up against a wall for how reckless some of his solo missions had been these past few years, but Reyes was long since dead, so who was around to stop him?

 

That’s what the old man got for dying. Couldn’t complain if Jesse McCree got himself killed in the line of work when he’d already done the same.

 

Overwatch disbanding left a void that every organisation on the planet wanted to fill, but none were quite so aggressive with their process than Talon. Without any checks to keep them back, the criminal collective had quickly established footholds wherever Overwatch pulled out, sprouting up like unruly weeds.

 

Ruthless, cutthroat, cold unruly weeds. The kind of people Jesse might have allied himself with, years ago. Back before Blackwatch, before Overwatch gave him some semblance of a family, before the Geneva incident tore that all away.

 

But something about that time had changed him. And he felt he had a job to finish, a responsibility, shoes to fill.

 

Blackwatch had information on everyone- and they had a fair reservoir on Talon. They’d always been a threat, after all, and they were a tangible target Jesse could go after. Something he could blame, something he could focus on, something to do so he didn’t fall to the wayside in despair and loneliness.

 

If he could break their hold, leave their organization shattered, maybe he wouldn’t sleep each night with a weight on his chest. Maybe he wouldn’t wake each morning and see a man in the mirror who could have done more. Who  _ should  _ have done more.

 

And if not, he’d move on to the next organisation. And the next. And the next. Until he could breathe freely again.

 

Taking a drag from his cigar, Jesse dangled his free hand over his knee. The city was calm- on the surface, no one would ever guess how deep the corruption ran here. But he knew a lot more than what was on the surface. Talon had recently moved several key assets to a secret base here- some kind of business deal, he couldn’t determine all of the details from datamined ciphers and pieced together code. All that he knew, and all that mattered, was the fact that multiple high-ranking targets would be in the same building tonight. 

 

And so would Jesse McCree.

* * *

  
  


The sun set over the skyline quietly, and the city shifted with it. Lights came on, the night life creeping out from corners to crowd into clubs and linger on street corners. A black sedan drove quietly down the backstreets, parking in front of a nondescript building, cement blocks and glass windows.

 

As the men in suits were ushered from the car into the building, guards trailing after, a wind fluttered in from the east, catching the door for just a moment as it closed behind them.

 

From a rooftop, Hanzo Shimada cocked an arrow into his bow, watching the silhouettes disappear behind frosted glass.

 

Hidden in the shadows of a nearby alley, Jesse McCree spun the bullets in their slots, checking that the action was smooth before he made his move to follow the businessmen in.

  
This corner of the city would not maintain its facade of calm for long.


	2. Crossed paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stranger or no stranger, Hanzo Shimada had a job to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's mostly from Hanzo's perspective but I'm still playing around with perspectives, so the shifts will be marked with a horizontal line.

It was impossible to do anything of this scale entirely silently. There were at least a couple dozen Talon agents in the building, not counting the clan’s representatives and their guards. That many people didn’t go down without a fight and a couple of screams.

 

But Hanzo wasn’t expecting the spectacle of light and sound that was  _ whoever else  _ was infiltrating the compound.

 

Guns were so much  _ louder  _ than his bow. And not much faster for it.

 

Cursing under his breath, he hopped from the ledge he was perched on, ducking into a shadow as he notched another arrow- at least the stranger had left him an open passage in. Even if it did mean dealing with an entire building on high alert.

 

He would have to move swiftly if he wanted to take his marks before the guards spirited them away back to their holes.

 

Bowstring taut, Hanzo ran along the entryway path, slinking from one shadow to another. Here and there he could see evidence of the stranger’s entry- the sentry guards lying in puddles of blood, the remains of some sort of small explosive. Messy, but effective. And dangerous.

 

He paused a moment to assess the routes before jumping up the staircase- the meeting wouldn’t be on a base floor, and if they were already evacuating, he wanted a high-ground vantage point.

 

Somewhere behind and below him, footsteps clicked against the floor. He drew back the arrow, eyes narrowed in the near-darkness as he watched the silhouette step closer to where he was perched. A breath in, a breath out, the arrow released, and a moment later the man fell to the ground, feathers sticking out of his throat as he choked on wood and blood.

 

In the pit of his stomach, fire surged, awoken and thirsting for more.

 

_ Vengeance. Blood. Redemption. _

 

It took another breath to quiet the voices, to press them back. They could rejoice when all was finished- he couldn’t let himself get sloppy with bloodlust. Clean-cut kills, arrows left in corpses. A message to those that remained- this is the end you will meet.

 

Head cleared, Hanzo set off again, listening for any signs of a conflict further inside the building. There was no way of telling which side room the meeting was being held in, but it was sure to be one of these middle ones- no windows for snipers or curious neighbours to look through, and plenty of plausible deniability if things went awry and one party or another had to be disposed of. One of the countless pieces of information he’d learnt growing up, now turned against its very teachers.

 

Gunfire shook him from his musing and searching, whole body tense. Not far away, a couple of rooms at most. Multiple shooters, the stranger must have ran into more guards, or found the meeting place.

 

If Hanzo wanted to land the kills that really mattered to him, he had to act fast. While he appreciated the stranger unknowingly clearing some of his path, the Shimada Elder and his assistants were deaths that Hanzo needed to deal himself.

 

Crouched low to the ground, Hanzo sped through a door, catching sight of a flash of bright light that made him duck and roll- another explosive? Some sort of stunning device? He couldn’t tell from here, could just see the after effects. A couple of men stumbled for a moment before shots rang out, dropping them to the ground.

 

Spurs clinked closer, prompting Hanzo to press himself up against a wall, arrow notched and ready to fire. A man came into view, dark clothing and an odd hat all Hanzo could make out in the low light. He nudged one of the corpses with his foot, whistling and tipping the hat.

 

“Best watch yer step. Never know what’s comin’ for ya til it catches ya backwards.”

 

There was something almost playful about that statement, effortless. Like he was giving advice to a child, not speaking to a body. In another life, it might have sent a shiver down Hanzo’s spine, but he’d crossed dozens of vigilantes. They all worked in their own ways.

 

So long as their paths didn’t cross, it didn’t matter how the stranger dealt with his corpses.

 

Once he was out of sight, Hanzo crossed to the other door, peeking out it and slinking into the hallway- he could hear voices, the hushed sort of panic that comes when self-important people are herded together and told to stay down until the coast is clear.

 

Not much farther now, then.

 

A split-second of light reflected off his bow grip and a shot rang out, grazing Hanzo’s arm as he tugged himself back up against a wall. The pain was distant, ruled out by adrenaline as he loosed the arrow in his bow. At such a short distance, the shot pinned the gunman to the wall, blood seeping down his neck into his suit.

 

Somewhere around the corner, a shriek trilled out in the darkness. 

 

The fire surged up in him again, stretching his mouth into a momentary grin before he pushed it back down. 

 

No joy, not yet. Not until his arrow found its final mark.

 

Gritting his teeth and tamping the roars in his core down, Hanzo took a second to assess the wound on his arm. Oozing blood, but nothing major hit, from what he could tell. Something to stitch up later once he was finished and back in his little hotel room.

 

Reaching up, he untied his hair and tugged the ribbon down, wrapping it around his arm like a makeshift tourniquet. It wouldn’t be the first time he washed blood from the silk tie.

 

Wound dealt with for now, Hanzo crept around the corner the guard had come from, trying to keep his steps as silent as possible. The hallway had a window at the end, not a door to the outside, he was in luck. Wherever they were hiding, they had no way out but past him.

 

Opening the doors was the real challenge- whatever guards were left would surely be poised to shoot as soon as the knob turned, and breaking through would put him in a poor position to shoot. Unless  _ he  _ didn’t break down the door.

 

What was the point in being subtle now, when they were already cowering in wait? And when some drawling stranger was throwing bombs around a few rooms over.

 

For a moment, his eyes flashed bright, electric blue as he notched an arrow, pointed at the closed door,  _ “Ike. Sagashite kudasai.”  _ The words fell like a prayer from his lips as he let the arrow go, wind and roars consuming the wood barrier.

 

They wanted blood, blood they would get.

 

Shrieks and curses, furniture being thrown over, the sounds of chaos poured out from the room as the dragons returned to him, resettling and urging him forward.

 

_ There. In there. Vengeance. Retribution. _

 

The first guards to make it to their feet were easy pickings. Quick shots, before they could even get their bearings. It was almost cruel. Almost.

 

Poised to run in, Hanzo was stopped by a shout from the door he’d come through.

 

“Stop! You’re outnumbered, Gunslinger! Give up!”

 

“Outnumbered don’t mean shit when I can shoot you all outta business, pardner.” A laugh followed the statement, shots thrown off, and spurred boots clacking against the floors. 

 

Naturally, Hanzo took a moment to refocus on the incomers- they posed a more present threat than the guards hiding in the room ahead of him. Bowstring taut, he caught sight of light glinting off the stranger’s gun as he reloaded- who used  _ six shot pistols  _ these days?- and the Talon agent behind him, red laser sights already trained.

 

Without thinking, Hanzo released his breath, arrow singing free of the bow and sliding past the stranger’s ear to catch the agent between his eyes. Having strangers die in the midst of his mission was another guilt he didn’t have enough time to pay for.

 

The stranger skidded to a stop a ways from him, gun drawn and pointed at him to match his raised bow, but the man only whistled, “Sharp shot you got there, sweetheart.”

 

Dark eyes rolled in their sockets at the silly nickname before Hanzo turned back to the room, slinking to the doorway.

 

“Not even gonna let me thank ya fer savin’ me? Where’s the chivalry in that?”

 

Before Hanzo could take his decision back and kill the stranger himself, the man through a cylinder into the room. A bright flash of light and sound cracked shortly after- the little explosives were some sort of distraction or stun, then.

 

Rushing in, Hanzo was quick to toss the wazikashi sheathed in his sleeves into the guards he could see, gunning for the trio kneeling in the corner of the room. Behind him, he heard gunshots and chuckles, bodies shoved up against walls and whispered threats-turned-questions.

 

The stranger, clearly, was here for Talon.

 

Standing in front of the Elder and his two assistants, Hanzo felt his mouth curl down into a grimace as the dragons growled in his chest.

 

“ _ Konbanha, Shimada Hanzo. Ogenki desuka?” _

 

“ _ Urusai.”  _

 

He didn’t give them any further chance to anger him, to get an emotional response from him. Three shots, short range arrows reserved for this exact thing. Blood gurgled up from their mouths as they collapsed to the floor, breaths rattling past the shafts in their throats like notes from a twisted flute.

 

Three more off his list. Three steps closer.

 

Behind him, the stranger was still conversing with a Talon agent, pressed up against a wall. Bodies littered the floor, blood seeping into the wood, and Hanzo Shimada’s work was done.

 

Silent and swift, he slipped out of the room while the stranger was focused on his interrogation, leaping out the first window he found and hopping across buildings back to his hotel.

 

Maybe tonight he could settle in for a drink and rest peacefully for once, the dragons momentarily sated.

* * *

 

A final gunshot took the last Talon operative’s life- there was nothing else he could tell Jesse McCree that the gunslinger didn’t already know. His makeshift partner’s absence hadn’t gone unnoticed, but Jesse hadn’t expected him to stick around.

 

Didn’t seem like one for small talk.

 

Whistling under his breath, he sauntered out of the building, taking the backstreets back to where he was staying the night. 

  
He’d earned a whiskey or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ike. Sagashite kudasai." - Go. Please search.  
> "Konbanha, Shimada Hanzo. Ogenki desuka?"- Good evening, Hanzo Shimada. Are you well/how are you feeling?  
> "Urusai." - Shut up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please feel free to hit me up at ilananight.tumblr.com anytime for headcanons, questions, or just to scream into the void.


End file.
